


Taxonomy

by northelypark



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, The Lamplight Letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:05:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northelypark/pseuds/northelypark
Summary: How does a butterfly becomes friends with a spider, a wasp, and caterpillar? Gemma reflects.





	Taxonomy

One of my favorite pastimes is trying to figure out what kind of bug a certain person would be. Me? I’m a butterfly. And I’m not just saying that because I love butterflies (I do, though. Especially their faces. Have you ever seen a butterfly face up close? A word hasn’t been invented to describe that kind of face yet. Maybe I’ll think of one).

Butterflies are dramatic. They’re performers. Sort of Shakespearean. Romeo and Juli _ant!_ Ever watch a butterfly? They flash and dash, all splashing colors and translucent wings like stained glass windows. _Watch me!_ That’s what they’re saying.

_Watch me!_

That’s what I always said when I was little. Up on the table in wellingtons and satin bedsheets and costume jewelry encrusted with peanut butter (my brother’s fault, I swear). Demanding little thing, I was. But I liked it when people laughed. I liked it when I made them laugh or made them gasp as I tottered and danced on the table’s tippy-toe edge (before being sent to my room when mum I found out I had stomped through the butter. Oops).

Funny, but not everyone is a ‘watch me’ person. Not everyone is a butterfly. That’s probably a good thing. Butterflies are nice in ones or pairs, but can you imagine a whole swarm of butterflies coming towards you? Apocalyptic, that.

My friend Amelia…she’s more of a spider. Strange, because I generally don’t like spiders at all. Especially not the ones at Dreycott. But I think Amelia would be the one spider I would like. What goes through spiders’ minds when they spin webs? They can’t speak, so maybe they don’t think in words, but in lines and threads. In ups and downs and patterns like lace and math equations. Lovely and logical.

 I think Amelia’s mind works the same when she’s playing chess. It’s hard to talk to her, then. I can just tell she’s in this different world. Maybe a place where they speak in chess notation and see in black and white. I don’t know. I’m not very good at chess, so I only get to see snatches of it.

I sometimes wonder if Amelia is annoyed when I tear her out of that world, like an oaf blundering through a delicate web. She would never say it out-loud. She’s silent as a spider, too. I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I wonder…does she really like being around me? Or is she just polite? Are butterflies just silly distractions?

Sometimes I wish I was more like Clive. Clive can draw attention when he wants to – he’s quick and clever and a natural leader. But he knows how to be quiet and how to disappear, too. I’ve never been good at disappearing.

Clive isn’t a spider, though. I’d say Clive is a wasp. There’s something sharp about Clive. Something a little bitter. It’s hard to explain other than I’d don’t think I’d ever, ever want him for an enemy. Before I knew him, I kept my distance, like one might keep away from a wasps’ nest. He had that “don’t mess with me” look in his eyes. Touch me and _ouch_! Stinger in your finger. Like someone used to being outnumbered, outsized, and shoved around. Someone who knew how to scrape and survive in any situation. 

Now that I know him I see a different side. Wasps don’t sting you for the fun of it, they do it to protect their home and themselves. Clive is sort of a protector, I think. The sort of bloke who will only fight if he must. What has he been through? What has he seen? Things that turn butterflies into wasps?

I asked Bernard about it once. What happened to Clive’s parents. He wouldn’t give me an answer. Bernard is like Amelia and Clive in some ways. He’s quiet and private and very smart, just like they are. But Bernard is a caterpillar. Don’t tell him I said that, though. He would probably be furious and insist he’s a stag beetle or something. But no, I don’t think so. He’s a small caterpillar who looks like he has poisonous spines, but if you look closer (like so close you have to use a microscope), you’ll find they aren’t spines at all. Just fuzzies (don’t tell him I said that, either. He’ll probably insist he’d have huge knife-spines dripping with acid).

Butterflies and caterpillars kind of live in different worlds. Same with me and Bernard. I’m floating on a breeze and he’s stuck to a leaf. Doesn’t he know it’s okay to laugh? Not sarcastically. Not cynically. Not ironically. Just laugh because it’s fun and it makes you feel like a load of concrete and rubble is dropping off your shoulders.

I try to make him laugh all the time. Really laugh. Maybe I try too hard? Maybe there was a time when he was little, and he said,

“Watch me!”

Just once. Just for the fun of it. Just to make people laugh. To show he could do something crazy and amazing. Cramazing. And no one watched. No one cared. And he stopped caring, too.

But maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll make him laugh and he’ll turn into a huge moth with those wicked owl eyes on his wings and we can go flying together. Or more likely he’ll find a nice library and start eating all the books.

So, how does a butterfly become friends with a spider, a wasp, and a caterpillar? I’m not really sure, but here we are. It’s sort of weird, I guess. Sort of something that shouldn’t work. Shouldn’t I be up there with all the other butterflies, the ones who are always talking, always engaged, never lost in their own worlds?  The ones who are safe and friendly, even from afar, with no reason to fight because most everyone loves them? The ones who know how to laugh?

But I think, then, I might never know what it really means to be me. Would never get to share a bit of color and sky and fun and Greek mythology and dramatic Shakespeare deaths and puffy stickers and a million ice cream flavors with those who need them most. Would never get to see the world through their eyes.

Maybe it’s not so weird after all?

 


End file.
